When I was a young man, I enjoyed going for walks through my small town.

Though I lived in Red Elm all my life, I never grow bored of its landscape.

I loved to bask in the fresh air as I walked. The sun warming my skin and a

gentle breeze rifling through my hair. I waved at every person that crossed my path and

had a smile on my face more often than not.

Life wasn't perfect of course and my journeys on foot weren't entirely by choice.

I had little money and didn't own a vehicle, but the future looked bright.

I'd recently completed high school and started working at the town's only grocery store,

and I knew in time I'd be able to save up enough to avoid a down payment

on a modest car.

Unlike my classmates who left small town life behind in the days following our graduation

ceremony I had no desire to ever leave Red Elm.

I didn't lack ambition. I was simply happy.

To me, the thought of spending the rest of my days in the town I called home sounded like

tranquil, uncomplicated bliss.

Later, I would reflect on this optimism and feel stupid.

Sunlight had yet appear through my window

when a frazzled coworker called to ask if I could cover her shift.

Her son had become ill during the night and she had rushed him to the hospital, leaving

her unable to come into work and asked her short-staffed.

Eager to make some extra money, I told her I'd be there and speedily dressed.

Hunger gnawed at me as I walked to work.

...